Salva Nos
by NagiLite
Summary: Sometimes hate and love can be confused for one another in the passage of time...1x2
1. Salva Nos: One

Author: NagiLite  
  
Rating: R  
  
Disclaimer: I own Heero. No, really...Okay, I don't. I don't own any of the Gundam pilots. There, happy?  
  
Warnings: Yaoi...but aren't most Gundam Wing fics yaoi/shounen ai nowadays? Maybe a teensy bit of OOCness, compared with all those other Gundam Wing fics out there...I like to imagine my characterizations are fairly close to the ones portrayed in the actual anime. *sweatdrop*  
  
  
  
~Salva Nos~  
  
  
  
~One~  
  
  
  
Norman's Cafe was a tiny building squished in between a bank and an underground parking lot (along with its over ground counterpart). Norman Fili himself had been an Italian immigrant with a taste for coffee. The shop had opened in the late 130's, and even now, in the year AC 198, it stood on its little plot of land.  
  
A young man sat in his favorite chair next to a large, slightly-dirty- window. He knew a lot about Norman's Cafe. For instance, the sign on the slightly-dirty-window read "Cappuccino--Special Offer, Today Only!--Two Cups, Half Price," and it had been reading that message for going on a year now. He also knew that Tifa, the waitress with the oddly shaped nose, and Mallory, the waitress who wanted to be a movie star, would not begin their shifts until two o'clock that afternoon.  
  
He sipped his coffee (four teaspoons sugar, plenty of milk) and occasionally took a bite out of his croissant. Wisps of his long, plaited brown hair escaped to tickle his nose, and he brushed them back irritably. He usually came here to think and relax, sometimes to flirt with Mallory and Tifa (old Mina, who was on the morning shift, wouldn't tolerate his playful advances), but not today.  
  
Today he was waiting for something--rather, someone--to come along and change his life.  
  
The little bell over the door jingled as a customer entered; this, however, was no ordinary customer, for Duo Maxwell, anyway.  
  
He was the same as ever, only taller, blue eyes flashing coldly around before settling on the braided man by the slightly-dirty-window. He walked (marched, really) over, took a seat, and stared silently at anything other than Duo.  
  
"Morning, Heero," Duo said conversationally. He hadn't seen Heero Yuy in over a year, and hadn't planned on meeting the man ever again, if he could help it. Unfortunately, Duo had kept in touch with Quatre Winner, and Quatre was never one to forget a comrade. The Arabian had put Duo up to this: inviting Heero to L4, to a place Duo frequented, no less. 'It's worse than a fucking family reunion,' Duo thought wryly.  
  
Heero nodded a reply. Much of his speech was body language, a dialect Duo had nearly forgotten in the time they'd been apart. But he was remembering it, now.  
  
"Let's keep this short, shall we?" Duo smiled wolfishly, fixing on Heero a cynical violet eye. "You don't want to be here, Yuy, and I don't want you here. But I've been given the oh-so-honorable task of escorting you to Winner Estate. Quatre, for some God-awful reason, wants your skinny ass present, and though I've no qualms with anything he chooses to do, I never expected to be dragged into it."  
  
"All of this is for Quatre?"  
  
"Yeah," said Duo, getting up and motioning for Heero to do the same. He left a tip by his unfinished coffee. "It's hard to refuse him anything, you know? When he asked me to do this, I tried to convince him to get Trowa or Wufei to do it."  
  
"Are they here as well?" Heero held the door for Duo, and the two emerged on the busy streets of L4. The "sky" was white and the air chilly. Duo was glad he'd decided to wear a jacket. Heero, in tank top and shorts, must have been miserable beneath that stony facade of his.  
  
"No. I had some...financial trouble back on L2. Quatre offered to take me and Hilde in. She refused, of course. Too stubborn for her own good. But I didn't have anywhere else to go, so..." He shrugged and began taking them towards the entrance of the subway station. Winner Estate was large enough to have its own stop, and Duo planned to get off there. "As I was saying. Quatre asked me, and I finally caved in. Hence, my current position."  
  
They took seats opposite one another. Duo blew on his hands, trying to get his circulation going again. After a few minutes, he said, "Quatre'll want to know what you've been up to this past year. He'll ask you tons of questions, and if you don't want to answer, he won't force you. But don't brush him off. It'd hurt him more than you can imagine."  
  
"Protective, aren't you?"  
  
"Think of me as your Friendly Neighborhood Death God. You hurt him, I hurt you."  
  
"Understood."  
  
Quatre Winner stood by the entranceway as the two ex-pilots jumped off the train and onto the platform. The Winner heir was as slight as he'd been a year before, his cheeks flushed from cold and expectancy. He smiled brightly and shook Heero's hand.  
  
"It's good to see you again, Heero," he stated. The next thing he said was covered by the subway's departure, but he gestured for Heero and Duo to follow him.  
  
Winner Estate was not unlike a miniature city. Quatre had established the subway station to carry people to and from their residences on his property. The Manguanac camp was encircled by a thick grove of trees, but Heero could see the flickering of a bonfire even from his current location. To his left was a shelter for homeless families, little children in overlarge clothes running after a red ball.  
  
The Winner Mansion, positioned in the center of it all, was huge. It was done in the style of the eighteenth century A.D., a stone merman and mermaid proudly spewing water into a shell-like fountain base by the front entryway. Duo trailed his fingers through the water as they walked around it, shivering because it made his already numb fingers tingle.  
  
When they entered through the tall front doors, a servant took Quatre's and Duo's coats, bowing low.  
  
"Duo," Quatre said, turning to the American, "would you please find Madame Lauder and ask her to prepare tonight's meal early? I fear at least one of us has had a long journey, and you, Duo, eat enough for the entire Manguanac camp."  
  
Duo grinned good-naturedly and said, "I'm a growing boy, and I need my food." He cast a meaningful look at Heero before setting off to annoy the Head Cook, Madame Lauder, with his endless flirtation and substantial appetite.  
  
Heero watched him go with mild interest, and Quatre filed the curious exchange away in his memory, promising to dwell on them later.  
  
"How was Norman's?" he asked, leading Heero into his office. It had thick carpet, which Heero's feet sank into, and huge chairs, one of which Heero seated himself in. The fire that was blazing in the hearth warmed him from a coldness he'd barely felt.  
  
"The cafe? Fine, I suppose."  
  
"Duo has made the place his own." Quatre settled himself behind his desk, crossing his ankles. "It's his 'Thinking Spot'. Did you try the croissants?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Delicious. But please, Heero. Tell me about your life."  
  
Heero picked at the threads in his armchair, thinking that his life was really no one's business, but remembering Duo's warning not to "brush off" Quatre.  
  
"My life is average."  
  
"I know you were living on Earth, and in Sanc. How is Miss Relena Peacecraft?"  
  
"She prefers 'Darlian' now. She's content. And pregnant."  
  
Quatre's brows rose at this. "Pregnant?"  
  
"Yes. The father is very proud. They were married months ago. I can't even recollect his name. The Press went wild, but Relena's brother made sure the news didn't go far outside the Kingdom. He feared the publicity would be bad for Relena and the child."  
  
Quatre closed his eyes in thought. Miss Relena...married? It didn't seem possible. 'A child, she's going to give birth to a CHILD.' And still, it was surreal. He felt frozen in place.  
  
At length, he forced himself to smile and meet Heero's indifferent gaze. "I'm so sorry," said Quatre sadly. "I know you have feelings for her."  
  
Heero snorted in disbelief. "Feelings? You mean, I assume, romantic feelings."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Relena is..." The Japanese man floundered about for the right words. "...She's the innocence I never had."  
  
"Oh," Quatre said, realization sinking in. "I...see. So you never--"  
  
"No."  
  
Quatre chuckled and collapsed back in his chair. "You are a man of few words, Heero."  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Married. I really should have known all of this. But life has been so hectic...Iria warned me time and again about the consequences of pushing one's acquaintances to the side whilst focusing on one's job. I'll listen to her, next time. And yes," he clarified, noticing Heero's confusion, "that is the reason I summoned you here. To try to get back in touch with the real world. Selfish of me, right?"  
  
Heero shrugged. He wasn't all that clear on the concept of selfishness, as he'd rarely been selfish before. He'd always been dedicated to missions and orders, and had only been recently learning humanlike responses, a process Relena had begun.  
  
Quatre wistfully played with strands of his blond hair, staring out at the iffy weather--he was afraid it was going to rain, and he hadn't yet sent out a repair crew to check the shelter for leaks. He was contemplating the likelihood of finding a crew that operated on such short notice when his stomach growled lustily.  
  
To Heero he said, "I think it's about time to check up on Duo and Madam Lauder."  
  
Duo was in a heated discussion with one of the kitchen girls, gesticulating wildly and exclaiming about the incompetence of God and the government when Heero and Quatre entered. The kitchen girl saw them, blushed, and scurried away. Duo glared at them accusingly. "Hey. I was just getting to the good part."  
  
Quatre laughed. He was used to Duo's occasional rants by now. However, his biggest worry at the moment was food. Food and Relena, but mostly food.  
  
Madame Lauder, a forty-something woman with a large belly and an even larger knowledge of cuisine, bustled in, bowing absently to Quatre. She ordered them out until she'd finished, talking to Duo in particular, and as they left, Heero could hear her grumbling about "aggravating boys" and "bottomless stomachs".  
  
"I swear that woman is planning to assassinate me in my sleep," Duo muttered darkly, flopping into a Dining Room chair as Heero and Quatre settled gracefully down.  
  
"Don't be sore, Duo," Quatre admonished, politely unfolding his napkin and positioning his eating utensils around his plate. "She likes you, in an odd way."  
  
"Odd is right. So. Who's up for cards?"  
  
Quatre spread his hands out before himself, shaking his head violently. "I'd rather not."  
  
"Aw, c'mon, Quatre. I did your little errand for you." Duo jerked his head in Heero's direction. "You can at least play a simple game with me."  
  
"Duo. Any game with you is...shall we say, less than simple."  
  
Heero cocked his head in a "How so?" way.  
  
The blond man caught Heero's meaning and explained, "The last time I played a game with Duo, I ended up dancing naked on my desk."  
  
"Mental image," Duo laughed, "man, what a mental image!"  
  
Heero stoically listened to their bantering. He stoically watched as Duo consumed half of the meal by himself when kitchen girls brought it out. He stoically ignored the food fight that broke out between Quatre and Duo.  
  
In much the same way, he stoically finished first and left for the room Quatre had prepared for him. He hadn't brought any baggage with him, for he wasn't planning on staying more than one night, and he didn't mind wearing the same clothes for days at a time. The room was much too classy for his tastes (wooden floors and a small cot would have done well enough), but he locked the door, stripped to his boxers, and extinguished all of the lights except the bedside lamp.  
  
He stared at the ceiling, outlining each crystal of the overhead chandelier with his eyes and thinking back on his earlier conversation with Quatre. The other man had been strangely...affected by the news of Relena's marriage and conception. But it was probably just shock; shock could do a lot to a person, Heero had discovered.  
  
He was beginning to doze when there was a loud knock at his door. He tried to disregard it, but it came again, this time with a muffled, "Heero?".  
  
He roused himself fully and got out from under the warm covers, stumbling only once on his way to the door.  
  
Quatre, the hallway lamps highlighting his golden hair, grinned and asked, "Can I come in?"  
  
"I'm not dressed," Heero said flatly.  
  
"I don't mind, do you?"  
  
Heero, wondering whether to take that as a compliment or not, stepped aside to allow his host to enter. Quatre didn't come in any further than three feet or so, then stopped, hands held behind his back. He cleared his throat and said, "Heero, I know you don't want to remain here any longer than necessary."  
  
Heero nodded for him to go on.  
  
"However, I have a favor to ask of you. In fact...I've been pondering over it for some time, but until now have not felt comfortable bringing it up," Quatre continued. He let his blue eyes come to rest on a spot directly to the right of Heero's head. "Every year Winner Enterprises, the company I own, holds a formal ball for employees and their friends and family. My sisters are all going, as is Duo, and Trowa if he can get away from his circus. Wufei has refused in favor of Preventer's work. I was going to invite Miss Relena, but in light of her current condition, I don't want to burden her with anything as insignificant as this. The only person I have not asked is you." He paused and met Heero's stare reluctantly. He was fairly certain the Japanese man would refuse; it seemed a given--the sun came up each morning, the world went round, and Heero Yuy didn't willingly go to balls.  
  
Heero mulled over the invitation in astonishment. He'd never been to any sort of social gathering without a specific reason. Such as killing the host. And he definitely wasn't going to kill Quatre.  
  
"Why me?" he inquired finally.  
  
"Because..." Quatre picked over his thoughts carefully. "Because I think you ought to get out more, Heero. You're young, healthy...handsome. You need to open up to life. And what better time to start then now?"  
  
'Have I said too much?' he wondered to himself. But Heero didn't look offended.  
  
"I can dance," Heero said, as if it were an answer. And for Quatre, it was. He smiled broadly and resisted the urge to hug the quiet man.  
  
"That's wonderful, Heero. You can teach Duo. He's awful at it."  
  
He left quickly before Heero could argue.  
  
Heero stood stunned before at last realizing he was alone. He shut the door, climbed back into the bed and switched off the bedside lamp, determined to fall asleep rather than think about what he'd agreed to do. 


	2. Salva Nos: Two

Author: NagiLite  
  
Rating: R  
  
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to the Big, Rich People. In other words, not me.  
  
  
  
~Two~  
  
  
  
The next morning, Heero awoke hating himself for agreeing so readily. He should have been preparing to board the subway, should have been departing for the airport, and then to Earth...but no. His mouth tasted nasty, and he regretted having not packed anything. He trudged into the bathroom that was adjacent to the bedroom, and was pleasantly surprised to find a new toothbrush, toothpaste, razors, in fact, everything he needed. Clothes, too. He lifted the simple blue jeans and white button-down shirt. Good enough.  
  
After he was decent, he made up the bed and opened the door--only to find the smirking face of Duo Maxwell confronting him.  
  
"Hiya, Zero One," the braided man said cheerfully. Heero noticed how the merriment never reached his eyes and wondered what Duo was really thinking. 'None of my concern,' he scolded himself. He pushed past the American and set his mind on getting breakfast. Preferably something light, unlike the meal the night before.  
  
He was jolted out of his lonely world when a thin hand gripped his shoulder. Duo almost laughed at the puzzlement written all over Heero's face. "Where're you going, eh?" Duo asked, not expecting an answer and therefore not waiting for one. "The ballroom is this way." He pointed in the direction opposite the one Heero had been headed in.  
  
Heero raised an eyebrow. He was sure whatever Duo said next would be something he wouldn't like.  
  
"Have you forgotten, Heero? Your little talk with Quatre? You said--" Duo spoke each word slowly and distinctly, "--you would teach me how to dance."  
  
"I did not."  
  
"Well, you didn't SAY," Duo amended, "but you didn't argue against it when Quatre presented the idea to you. That, my friend, is as good an agreement as any."  
  
Heero thought he might be ill. He didn't need this torture so early in the morning. Teach DUO to dance? Oh, that was surely some cruel joke the rulers of life and the galaxy were playing on him. He'd decline; it was as simple as that.  
  
"Oh ho ho," laughed Duo, "can it be possible...that the Great Heero Yuy is afraid to dance with another male?"  
  
Heero glared for all he was worth at the boy before him. He refused to think of Duo as a man now. He was a LITTLE, ANNOYING BOY--  
  
"I never thought you would be frightened by such a tiny thing, Heeeeeeeero."  
  
"Shut up," growled Heero.  
  
"Why should I? I'm not the one afr--"  
  
Heero turned on his heel and set off for the ballroom, knowing full and well that the BOY who bothered him so much was trailing behind, still chuckling and jeering. It wasn't fair; how had he been tricked into this?  
  
With hard eyes, Duo watched Heero storm off, trying to stifle his cruel enjoyment of the other man's torment. However, Heero I-Have-A-Stick-Shoved- Up-My-Ass Yuy deserved it. Duo sauntered after the ex-pilot, thinking of new and improved ways to make Heero's life a living hell.  
  
The idea occurred to Duo as they entered the ballroom itself and as Heero uncertainly paused, facial features twisted in intense dislike and awkwardness. It was a rather malicious idea, but a good one, a classic one. He wasn't even sure exactly why he was so angry with Heero anymore ('He DID steal Deathscythe's parts way back when...and he's never been nice to me...I've tried so hard to break his shell, and he just won't fucking let me in...') but he felt the need to hurt Heero, deeply and irreversibly.  
  
Duo grinned and said, "Shouldn't you turn on the music?" There was a small boombox in the corner, one Quatre had had put there for this specific reason, and Heero went over to plug it in. There was a CD in it already, contemporary music, and Heero set to the boombox to play nonstop.  
  
Heero hesitantly approached Duo and held out an arm.  
  
"You'll have to explain everything to me," Duo told him frankly.  
  
Heero glowered but replied, "Take my hand."  
  
In another wing of the Mansion, Quatre Winner was staring intently at a video screen, upon which the slightly fuzzy image of Duo and Heero was shown. He watched as they went from stumbling around to gliding across the marble floor. With even greater interest, he perceived the supposedly accidental actions: hands bumping, bodies meshing, faces so close they nearly touched.  
  
Quatre tapped his foot in time with the music from the speakers, music he himself had chosen. It was interrupted every few minutes by a grunt from Heero or a curse from Duo, but other than that...  
  
It reminded him of Relena Peacecraft. He was still furious with himself for not keeping in contact with her, and even more furious with her for not telling him she'd been...married. He hoped the upcoming ball would keep him busy enough so he wouldn't have time to think of her. Blue eyes like oceans at evening, hair that had seemed so soft in the afternoon sunlight, he'd wanted to touch it. Had wanted to, but had never done so. After all, Miss Noin had taught him the art of unrequited affection.  
  
"Ugh, idiot, I'm an idiot! Hold on..." The mini Duo on the screen bent down and rubbed his leg, mumbling what Quatre's sister, Iria, called "dirty words".  
  
Quatre sighed and switched off the cameras in the ballroom. He felt a little guilty for spying on Heero and Duo, but the looks they gave each other kept coming back to haunt him. There was something below the surface, something more than broken friendship and anger and hate. He was determined to figure out what that something was.  
  
Meanwhile, Duo's idea was beginning to fall down around him. He had intended to seduce Heero, but it kept backfiring. If he tried to collapse into Heero's arms, it resulted in him stepping on his own feet; if he brought his face close to Heero's, he ended up bumping his nose. And damnit, he was supposed to be good at seduction.  
  
Heero insisted they stop for the day; it was past noon, and both were tired. Duo angrily rubbed his bruised arms. Heero gripped him much to hard for comfort. 'Forget about THAT brilliant plan. The guy is a total prick. He probably doesn't even know what sex is...'  
  
The music that had been playing incessantly for the past three hours was turned off, and Heero straightened. Something was tugging at the corner of his narrow lips, something Duo recognized as a smile. Well, well, well, miracles really did happen.  
  
"What's so funny?" Duo asked.  
  
"It's just...you look so stupid."  
  
"Wh--what?!" Duo's eyes widened in disbelief. What a terribly un- Heerolike thing to say...  
  
"Your hair..."  
  
The American frowned and went to one of the large windows where his reflection glared back at him. He finally saw what Heero was talking about. His hair had somehow come unraveled and was now wildly tangled. How had he NOT noticed it? He ran his fingers through it until he looked halfway civilized. 'The tie must have broken,' he decided. 'And I was so busy trying to get at Heero, I didn't realize it until he pointed it out...Rudely, I might add.'  
  
He smiled at himself, then posed. "I am one sexy dude," he said out loud.  
  
Heero snorted.  
  
"What, you don't believe me?"  
  
"Is that a rhetorical question?"  
  
"Hmph." He turned to mockingly glare at Heero. "First you insult my intelligence, then my sexual appeal, which is a thousand times more powerful than your own. I challenge you to a duel, Heero Yuy."  
  
"I'll win."  
  
"Nah." And without any warning, Duo launched himself at Heero, aiming a fist at his eye. The fist connected and Heero fell back, Duo on top of him. Strong arms pinned Duo's hands to his sides and rolled them over. Duo was, for a moment, afraid Heero would knock him out, but the Japanese man did no such thing.  
  
He just sat on Duo's pelvis, head tilted in contemplation. Duo noted with grim approval the thin stream of blood running from a cut above Heero's right eyebrow.  
  
"You've become quite violent," Heero remarked finally.  
  
"And you've always been violent," Duo retorted. He struggled to free himself from Heero's hold, but it was useless for him to even try. 'Oh no, I won't seduce the bastard; I'll kill him.' "Get offa me."  
  
"How is it," Heero continued as if Duo hadn't spoken at all, "that you have come to despise me so?"  
  
"You hate me. Why should I not return those sentiments?"  
  
"Hate you?" Heero stared down at Duo with genuine curiosity now. Hate. He had only hated a few people in his lifetime, and Duo Maxwell wasn't one of them. If he was perfectly honest with himself, Duo and Relena were the two people he hated the least. Yes, he disliked their persistence in interfering with his life, but he could never hate them. "I don't hate you."  
  
"Oh, please, don't even start." Duo turned his head to the side, not willing to look at Heero. It was becoming more and more painful every minute. "As many times as you've threatened me and lied to me and abandoned me."  
  
"What are you TALKING about?"  
  
"You know, 'I will kill you' and all that. Disappearing so only Quatre Winner, Mr. Billionaire himself, could find you."  
  
"What was I supposed to do?" Heero asked coolly. "Ask you to come live with me? I have an apartment in Sanc. It's nearly big enough to be called a closet. Why do you care, anyway?"  
  
"I DON'T," Duo said vehemently, at this point thrashing about in earnest. "You can go to hell, for all I care."  
  
"Isn't that where you live, Shinigami?"  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"Or do you want me to be where you are, wherever you are, like some little dog you can order around--"  
  
"I said, shut the fuck up, Yuy!"  
  
Heero let go of Duo's hands, and immediately they flew up to wrap around Heero's neck. Duo threw Heero to the floor, straddling him and letting his head hit the marble with a sickening crack. Heero's eyes crossed slightly, and he reached up to pry Duo's fingers from his skin. At last, Duo resorted to scratching Heero's face, but once again, he found himself restrained, even when on top and at an advantage.  
  
"Damn you, Heero, damn you to--" He was pulled down into an unbreakable embrace, face pressed into the soft cotton of Heero's shirt. He fought the impulse to give in and cry like a baby, instead opting to hold Heero just as tightly, hoping to somehow break his ribs, crush his heart into a bloody pulp.  
  
"Duo," Heero's hot breath rushed by Duo's ear, "what do you want from me?"  
  
"I want you to die."  
  
"Is that...what you really want?"  
  
"Yes," Duo hissed just as softly. Then, "No. I don't know."  
  
"When you figure it out," Heero said, "come to me."  
  
He gently unwrapped Duo's limp arms from his neck and laid the other man out on the floor. Though Duo expected him to, he didn't look back as he left, the doors shutting with a dull thud.  
  
Minutes later, Duo was taking the subway to Norman's Cafe, dreaming of coffee and blushing women and the joy of just not caring.  
  
He checked his watch; it was 2:15 P.M. Good. That meant Tifa and Mallory were in. He gave them his typical greeting as he entered, throwing a bad pick-up line Mallory's way, before ordering a cup of coffee (extra black-- he didn't feel in a sugary mood). He sat by the slightly-dirty-window and brooded until Tifa wandered his way. She began talking and forgot to stop, and he was happy to let her ramble on. It was a relief from trying to be so happy when he felt like a rainy day inside.  
  
Damn that Heero Yuy. He was always doing something wrong, always bringing up bad memories or saying stupid things or hurting people...and always ruining Duo's fun. Like now. Couldn't his stupid memory stay in the back of Duo's head instead of barging in unannounced?  
  
'I wonder what he's doing right now...No. I don't care.'  
  
Tifa's eyes nearly popped out of her head when Mr. Maxwell just up and left, without even leaving a tip or saying goodbye. It was most peculiar, and besides that, she had been nearing the climax of her rather long-winded joke.  
  
Mallory stared at Mr. Maxwell's departing back. As a future-writer and present-reader of romance novels, she noticed many things others did not. Tifa griped about how grumpy Mr. Maxwell was this morning, but Mallory knew it was something more. He acted like someone who was in love with someone else he'd rather not be in love with. Mallory speculated who the lucky girl was, and if maybe the girl didn't know. She was beginning to run down a list of girls she was acquainted with when her manager peered in, saw her dreamy state, and yelled at her to get back to work.  
  
As Mallory was being nagged, Quatre Winner was convincing one of the tenants of his homeless shelter to turn down the music emitting from a small, ratty radio (most likely stolen). The man, while as courteous as Quatre himself, refused. Rashid, standing behind Quatre (under the pretense of a mere companion, yet actually serving as a bodyguard), leaned down and whispered that Quatre should ban the man from the premises. The little blond couldn't imagine doing such a thing, and went on with his reasoning.  
  
The man was losing much of his courteousness when there was a knock at the door. They were inside the man's quarters, and Quatre shouted, "Are you expecting company?" The man shook his head, and the knock came again, this time louder, though Quatre was having a hard time hearing it at all. The music was pounding in his head as well as his ears.  
  
"Please," he yelled, "adjust the volume so I can speak to whoever is there."  
  
This time the man complied, going so far as to hide the radio beneath a pile of dirty clothes. 'He probably thinks it's the police out there. Yes, he definitely stole that thing.'  
  
Quatre opened the door. One of his servants bowed low and stepped aside, revealing a boy ('Man. He's a man now.') Quatre remembered very well.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Winner," the servant apologized. "He insisted on seeing you immediately."  
  
"Trowa?" Quatre felt a wide grin splitting his face. "You came after all!"  
  
The faintest trace of a smile appeared on Trowa Barton's lips as Quatre hugged him fondly, taking his hand and leading him towards the Mansion, the music incident forgotten.  
  
Rashid watched all of this, cast the man who had been playing the radio a warning look, and turned back to study the face of his Master. Master Quatre had been unusually melancholy ever since that second pilot had arrived here. Heero Yuy. But now...  
  
"They really are a pair, are they not?" The servant, a boy of about sixteen or seventeen years of age, stared at Rashid with naive fascination. He was somewhat in awe of the Manguanacs; they served Mr. Winner in a way he was sure he never could.  
  
Rashid shrugged and went on his way, already focused on the security of Winner Estate.  
  
The servant boy returned to his post at the entrance of the Mansion. He was faintly disappointed that Mr. Winner and the strange young man were already gone, but he quickly lapsed into a monotonous daze, occasionally humming snatches of old songs to keep himself awake.  
  
The chess board held all of Heero's attention. He was playing by himself; Heero Yuy versus Heero Yuy. Currently, Heero Yuy was winning. He was pulled out of this queer game by the sound of someone entering his room. He was expecting Duo, HOPING it was Duo, and was a little disappointed to find Quatre facing him.  
  
"Good afternoon, Heero," Quatre said. He was very excited about something, Heero realized. And soon enough, Heero found out what that something was. Trowa Barton gave Heero a little wave, one Heero replied to with a nod. "You've met Trowa Barton, of course."  
  
"Yes. Is Duo around?"  
  
Quatre blinked. "I wouldn't know."  
  
"Hmm..." Heero turned back to his game, sliding a bishop across two white and two black squares.  
  
"Well," Quatre said as he and Trowa departed for Trowa's room, "that was odd."  
  
Trowa's luggage had been brought up by servants, and he set about unpacking the things his sister had painstakingly folded and bagged. Quatre watched quietly from the doorway, unsure of himself. Trowa always unnerved him to some extent. It was so easy with Relena Peacecraft...Relena Darlian. She wasn't confusing. He knew where he stood with her. But Trowa...Trowa was a mystery. 'A mystery worth solving,' he determined, eyes lingering on the curve of Trowa's spine beneath his shirt.  
  
Heero, tired of playing his one-man game, wandered into his bathroom. He stripped completely, sniffed his skin, and winced. Yes, he was sorely in need of a bath. He turned on the hot water faucet, and then the cold water faucet, making sure the water wouldn't scald his skin.  
  
At last he entered the shower, pulling the semi-transparent shower curtain closed. Steam clouded his vision, and he let the water flow over him, washing dirt out of his hair and off of his skin. This was what he'd been missing all those years he'd been a soldier.  
  
It was only about 3:30 in the afternoon, and Duo found himself facing Heero's bedroom door. He had already been subjected to welcomes from both Quatre and the newly arrived Trowa Barton. He should have been hanging out with them, recounting perverted jokes, maybe teasing them on the nature of their relationship...But he was here. As to why he was here...He didn't know. 'Heero said...to come to him when I'd figured out what I want.' And he didn't know that, either.  
  
He turned to leave, but a second later was staring at the mahogany wood of the door. Finally he slid down to sit in front of it, resting his head in his arms.  
  
"We just...we're screwed, Heero," he murmured out loud. "Sometimes I want to jerk a knot in you...and other times I want to...this sounds retarded...other times I want to reach out and grab your hand and tell you it's all right, even though it's NOT all right. NOTHING is right anymore, not since you came back." He stared at the tiled hallway floor, memorizing the patterns. "You don't realize, Heero, that you have a perfect life. You have a kingdom, a princess, freedom...the knowledge to use all of that to your advantage. And yet...You don't seem grateful at all."  
  
"Maybe he doesn't see it that way."  
  
Duo's head shot up. He hadn't thought anyone was around to hear him. But the calm green eyes of Trowa Barton met his own.  
  
"I thought you were with Quatre," said Duo in a reproachful tone.  
  
"He had business to take care of. The ball is tomorrow night. He, as host- -"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Duo waved off the rest of the explanation. "I just didn't think you were the type of guy to eavesdrop."  
  
"I only happened to hear you. It was not intentional," Trowa assured him.  
  
"Oh." Duo frowned. "What did you mean...when you said 'he doesn't see it that way'?"  
  
"Well." Trowa sat awkwardly down, crossing his impossibly long legs. "Let's analyze your assumptions, shall we? You stated that Heero has a kingdom, a princess, and freedom, yes?"  
  
"You have a good memory. Funny how you got amnesia when you--"  
  
"Moving on. By kingdom, I'm assuming you were referring to the Sanc Kingdom. That is a home to millions of people, not only Heero. At the moment, and you would know this if you actually paid attention to current politics, it has no specific ruler; Heero certainly does not rule Sanc. He probably regards it as a place to reside and nothing more."  
  
Duo nodded uncomfortably. "I guess..."  
  
"Second. The princess part. That is, without a doubt, Relena Darlian."  
  
"I thought her surname was Peacecraft."  
  
"Not anymore."  
  
"Shit, can't she stick with one--"  
  
"Please remain on topic. My point is, it is of her you were speaking. And Heero does not 'have' her. She is married."  
  
"M-married?" Duo choked out.  
  
"Yes. Married. Not to Heero, but to some other man."  
  
"All right," Duo conceded, rubbing his head. Too much information for one day.  
  
"Freedom. That was the third thing you attributed as his. Perhaps..." Trowa tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps he is held by chains of...confusion."  
  
"What sort of crap is that?" Duo snorted. "Confusion my ass. He's never confused about anything important."  
  
"What about you? He seems pretty confused by YOU, Duo."  
  
"How would you know? You only just got here."  
  
Almost smugly, Trowa said, "Quatre told me. He told me most of what I know about you and Heero and et cetera, et cetera, et cetera."  
  
"Ooooooooh. I get it. Pillow talk."  
  
Trowa grimaced. "Um...no."  
  
"Go on, Clown-boy."  
  
"My point is, Heero doesn't have freedom from his own confusion and fear. In conclusion, he doesn't have everything, as you put it."  
  
"I see your point. Now go away. You've ruined my disillusions, damn you."  
  
"My pleasure." Trowa stood, dusted himself off, and strode away.  
  
Duo mulled over the conversation, until he at last come to the conclusion that he didn't understand Heero at all, but that they were the most mismatched pair in all of history. Pair? What a laugh.  
  
He left before Heero even finished his shower. 


End file.
